What Would Happen To Me If Armin Died?
by AnimeBratChild
Summary: Christa Renz has a nightmare about a life without Armin.


((These characters are not mine; these are original characters from Attack on Titan. This is a FanFiction-Plot-Bunny, an Idea without place. This Document is specifically for Attack on Titan Ultimate RolePlay. The song 'Oh Danny Boy' has been altered in this FanFiction, so all due respect to the original artist. ))

AnimeBratChild

"_**What Would Happen To Me If Armin Died?"**_

An Original One-Shot FanFiction, Dedicated to "ChrisMin"

"A terrifying thought grazed my conscious one day… Though it is too painful to tell, a troubling thought can turn into a grieving truth…"  
~_Christa Renz_.

The day used to be beautiful and full of light, though now, the familiar faces within the church were as depressed as the dreading grey clouds outside. The tall, colorful stained glass windows of the three Goddesses weren't as radiant as usual, or I should say, the four.

The fourth was only now less radiant. She hid her face and her golden hair with the black, lace headdress. She wore no makeup because she knew it would smear.

One arm was bent to cling to the other, angled down and rigid. Her paled skin contrasted the black funeral bandanna tied to the matching sleeve of her forearm. The ends wilted like the wearer.

Her comrades of the Scout Regiment bore tear-stained faces, hands over mouths and faces in disbelief. Some stood sentinel, empty, others prayed. All of their friends were in attendance, as stiff and agonized as the surrounding others. Mikasa and Eren were the most noticeable among the crowd in Christa's eyes. She knew how close they were.

Then there was the coffin, which seemed to her as unfairly plain as a coffin for just some nameless soldier. To Christa, it was unseemly. He deserved a coffin befitting a king; shrouded in freshly picked flowers. It would have been the only source of color in the dull, dour cathedral.

The preacher was in charge of the ceremony. His tone was of the most absent and impersonal. It spurred indignation within her outward silence. "Just because he didn't worship the walls doesn't mean he doesn't matter…" She was willing to object.

"And now may Armin Arlert's beloved rise to sing the Song of the Widowed?" The monotonous preacher queued, turning to Christa.

"I shall." She declared, making her way up to the podium. "I will sing in his honor. May he forever stay in our hearts." As she stood there before her friends and comrades, she closed her eyes and let tears flow, while her heavenly voice echoed:

"_Oh Armin, the bells, the bells are tolling…_

_The Goddesses, they call out your name…_

_The summer's gone, while all the roses wilting… _

_Tis you, tis you, must depart while I bide…_

_But come ye back, when your soul is ready… _

_While some forget, you'll still be in my heart—_

_Tis I'll be here, in Sunshine or in Shadows…_

_Oh Armin, Oh Armin, I love you so…_

_Tis I'll be here, and I shall never forget you…_

_Oh Armin, Oh Armin, I love you… So…"_

"Now Madame, please leave. You have done enough." The preacher remarked irritably.  
She glared back at him as she descended from the podium. Her pace carried her out of the funeral hall and out into the gardens where the rain was the only thing that could be heard. The countless pounding drops of sorrow, could not compare, however, to her tears.

"Christa!" A familiar voice called, as loud boot-steps approached.

"Y… Ymir?" She choked out. Her face was flushed and slick with tears, looking at her dear friend's concerned look. Ymir hugged Christa against her.

"I know it sucks…" She began. "I know someone like that is hard to come by. I can feel how much it hurts you for him to leave this world."

Christa started to bawl. "It's my fault!" She sniffed. "One day I was thinking about if he…" She stopped. "And now it came true! Why is fate so cruel?!" She let it all out in hiccups, clinging to her friend for dear life. "I want to hear his voice again! To feel his warmth! That damned churchman didn't care, though. Perish the thought that he cares for the damned people!" She screamed.

Ymir just kept her close, tears falling in silence where words couldn't form. She rubbed Christa's back and whispered words of comfort. "It's alright, it's okay, its okay…" She repeated, over and over.

"Thank you, Ymir… You are a dear friend…" Christa said.

"What else was I supposed to do? Leave my best friend crying out here?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Christa? Hey, wake up! Christa!" A familiar voice rouses her, shaking her out of sleep.

Christa awoke instantly, sitting straight up in disbelief as she recognized the voice. Though tear blurred eyes, she saw him; alive and well. "A-Armin?" She said, not believing herself.

"Yeah, it's me, Christa. You alright? You were crying in your sleep." He explained.

Christa gasped and started to laugh. She threw her arms around him, crying in joy. "Armin! Thank the goddesses! It was all a dream! It was all a dream…"


End file.
